The Buddy System
by Boggy
Summary: Going into battle alone is rough. Always take a guy to watch your back.


Author's Notes: I don't think I've ever taken quite this long to publish a fanfic (except for maybe "The Fires of Compromise"). But I really wanted this story to shine— to do it justice. This particular piece was a birthday request from my good friend (and exceptionally talented author) **Firestar9mm. **(You've seen her here and there, I'm sure, in YST message boards.) She is, like myself, an advocate of canon, good writing, and respect for the "old school" series of the 1980s. This story is a tribute to her #1 OTP, SeijixNasuti, and one of my personal favorite pairings in shounen anime.

This story has seen a LOT of revisions over the past few months. I'd originally drafted it as a prequel to my YST fic, "House of Crates." But I wasn't happy with the direction of the plot, and nothing seemed to "flow together" the way I'd intended it to, so I abandoned the idea in favor of something more suited to Firestar9mm's taste (written in my personal style, of course). Please note, a good 90% of what was written was taken straight from YST Encyclopedia or the Official Novel, "Yoroi Gaiden" (NONE of the characters listed are OC). I've worked my ass off getting this as perfect as possible, but if you see something completely and totally out of place, please don't hesitate to leave a review.

One thing—the title, "The Buddy System," is a play-on-words. Sometimes called the "two-man rule," the buddy system is a safety system where two people, operating as a single unit, monitor one another in extreme or dangerous situations. Only in this fanfic, it applies to a buddy system in the relationship sense, where a man and woman must support and protect one another from family, worries, insecurities, etc. (It is also a reference to the relationship I share with Firestar9mm who, I know, has always got my back.)

This is for you, sweetie. Happy belated birthday.

Disclaimer: Ronin Warriors/Yoroiden Samurai Troopers is © to Sunrise, Nagoya TV, and Sony Music Entertainment.

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**The Buddy System**  
By Boggy

Winter was a season of extras. Extra blankets for the bedspread. Extra wood for the fireplace. Extra anti-freeze for the windshield wipers. Extra coats and scarves for the little ones. Extra tissues for the runny noses and decongestants for the stuffy heads. Extra salt for the snowy sidewalks. Extra candles for winter storms. Even those few extra minutes before work to thaw your car doors and locks.

You needed "extras" in winter because what you did have was never "enough." Not enough light in the day, not enough play-dates with friends. Not enough snow on the ground to close school. The "extras" were compensation for a season that was always in short supply.

In Seiji's eyes, winter was a season to reflect. "The animals," he argued, "hibernate till spring, as a way of concentrating their energies for the new year. Nature harnesses its strength through focus and discipline. Winter is preparation. It is the precursor to life."

Shuu, on the other hand, was not impressed. "'Concentrate their energies' my ass. Animals hibernate because they're bored. Because that's what winter is—_boring_." He snatched a fistful of snow from the ground, flicking it into the empty streets. "Boring, boring, boring."

Seiji shot Shuu a hardened look, a scolding nigh three inches from his tongue. Sensing the indignation between them, Nasuti moved close, entangling her arms in Seiji's as she nudged his chest.

"It's cold tonight," she shivered, stealing the opportunity to tug Seiji towards her and away from Shuu. "We should head back—for Jun's sake."

"Aww," Jun whined. "It is isn't _that _cold. And besides, we made a promise to Byakuen. He needs his exercise." The boy stopped to scratch behind the tiger's ears. "You're not ready to go back, right Byakuen? Tell onee-chan you want to play in the snow."

The group wasn't terribly concerned with tiger aerobics. Living in the wilderness with Ryo provided Byakuen all the work-out he'd ever need. But they could sympathize with Jun's sentiments—everyone had had their fill of being cooped inside.

The weather was far too cold for swimming, and Shin had spent most of the first half of winter making flower arrangements, and helping in the family's factory. His elder sister, Sayoko, was busy designing a new pottery line for spring, and Shin had volunteered to help. Which was fine, except that everyday at noon, Sayoko's fiancé, Shizuka, would pick her up for lunch. Shin had come to accept Shizuka as his future brother-in-law, but couldn't help feeling protective of his elder sister, and by the third day, he had had enough.

Ryo didn't particularly like the cold, but was fascinated by the winter wildlife, and had took to photographing exotic birds. He'd found some of his father's old camera equipment, and used his at-home workstation to develop the shots. His father had even managed to meander through—for a week—and complimented his son's ability with the lens. However, his father was still in search of the "white tiger," so it was dangerous keeping Byakuen near the estate.

Shuu'd spent most of the winter months working in the family restaurant. He liked cooking almost as much as eating, and it helped his mother keeping close to home. She needed all the help she could get with five children and a kitchen to run. But while he was accustomed to large families, even Shuu needed space. He'd wasted a lot of evenings at the game center, and gave most of his winnings from the UFO catchers to his baby brothers and sisters.

Being "holed up" wasn't an issue with Touma, whose hobbies were confined to the indoors anyway. He'd spent most afternoons at his school's archery club and chess meets, but with a rumored IQ of 250—and a ruthlessly competitive spirit—there wasn't much in the way of "competition" from his classmates. In an effort to keep "busy," he'd resorted to his second favorite hobbies of eating and sleeping, and played _Nobunaga's Ambition _until his eyes crossed.

Even Seiji was struggling with bouts of "cabin fever." He'd spent most of the early winter recovering from an automobile accident, and after two and a half months of pampering and bed rest, was relieved to be away from home and in the company of friends. His family had driven him crazy since his release from the hospital. Even his mother—whom Seiji had never known to fuss—had threatened the hounds of hell if he so much as _looked _at his kendo equipment.

It was at Nasuti's suggestion that the group "get together," going so far as to offering to babysit Jun for the weekend. She'd made a point to keep close relations with his parents after the battle with the Youjakai. They had no memories of the ordeal, so Nasuti had fabricated a story to establish a pre-existing friendship between herself and their son. The story goes, she had found Jun scrounging through the university libraries for a book on African frogs—for a science essay—and took it upon herself to tutor the boy after school on Thursdays.

(It wasn't a _complete_ lie; she had in fact helped Jun with numerous school assignments, one being the mating rituals of the African Dwarf Frogs of the Sub-Sahara.)

She'd used her credibility as a research student to weasel her way into the mother's good graces, and before long, was helping her itinerate an action plan to improve Jun's studies.

It wasn't his first overnight stay at Nasuti's, and when she'd picked him up earlier in the day, he'd been ready and prepared with a briefcase of books and his sleepover pjs. The others too fell into their old routines, divvying up rooms and drawers and claiming rightful seats at the kitchen table.

Nasuti was confident they'd have a good time. She'd wanted to get together before the New Year, and before her return trip to France for the holidays. Her only living relative in Japan was dead, and aside from Jun, the Troopers, and her colleagues at the university, the only legitimate excuse she could find for traveling back and forth was "settling her grandfather's affairs."

She did have her grandfather's estate to juggle—Nasuti was the sole beneficiary in her grandfather's will—and the Troopers were, in a sense, an "extended family." But her mother was itching for weddings and a grandkid, and her father kept hinting at a "secret boyfriend" she had "stashed away" back home.

Nasuti snuck a peek at her blond bombshell escort, his fingertips grazing the insides of her hand. He caught her stare and smiled, running a freshly manicured nail against the knuckle of her thumb.

Unfinished business never looked so good.

She and Seiji had always shared a sort of "unspoken intimacy." He was her "date" at dinner parties, her shopping buggy at grocery stores, her personal bodyguard against the evils of the Youjakai. But as much as her colleagues pressed the issue, and as heavily as her parents poked into her "other life," she'd never officially said "one way or the other" about her relationship with Seiji. …And how could she? "Friend" didn't really fit the bill, and sooner or later people caught on to wayward glances and hidden smiles.

Even downtown Tokyo wasn't safe. She'd been spotted, in a crowd of hundreds of people, in the center of the Shinjukuu shopping district, by a pair of girlfriends from work. It'd been earlier in the day, and the gang had broken off to browse the restaurants and game centers. Touma had took to playing a simulation shooter, and Ryo had gravitated towards his favorite arcade game, "Hit the Moles." Jun was with Shuu and Shin, wolfing down hamburgers and shakes at a local McDonald's. (Byakuen had been charged with guarding Seiji's car and Nasuti's jeep, at the outskirts of the city.) Nasuti had taken it upon herself to pull Seiji towards a clothing outlet. Seiji, who hated the arcade, had no objections—to that, or to her encircling her hand in his as they walked arm-in-arm down the street.

And who should come moseying along than the top two Linguistic professors at Sengoku University, bags in one hand, cokes in the other, mouths a mile wide in a mixture of jealousy and surprise.

It'd taken fifteen minutes to first introduce and then explain who Seiji was, where he'd come from, and what he was doing in Shinjukuu, with Nasuti, the university's prized research student. It'd taken another ten to get rid of them and by then, Seiji was flustered from their prodding and flirting. She'd figured the mood was shattered and the afternoon a waste, but Seiji'd zeroed in on a nail salon and insisted they both get manicures, his treat.

Wiggling her fingers she smiled, the pretty pink polish glistening beneath the crisp, evening sky. Seiji'd said pink was her "signature color"—pinks and reds and mango peach, all the young, feminine shades of the rouge and eye shadow in her cosmetic kit. She took a moment to examine Seiji's nails, clear and cut and perfectly sculpted against the paleness of his skin.

Nasuti often wondered what her mother and father would think of Seiji—if they'd be shocked, impressed. Would they think he was odd, a blond and violet-eyed Japanese? Nasuti herself was only half-French; her parents had faced their fair share of discrimination and would no doubt welcome Seiji with open arms. But Seiji's family was traditional and strict. What would they think of their prized son—and only heir—marrying a half-French, half-Japanese, European-reared foreigner?

And that didn't take into account the issue of "age." Nasuti was three years Seiji's senior. She was nineteen-years-old; Seiji was only sixteen. He wasn't legal in either country. What would her parents think of her "fooling around" with a teenage boy? What would Seiji's mother think of _her_, preying on a kid fifteen minutes out of junior high?

What about the future? If she and Seiji married, Nasuti would no doubt move into the family dojo, meaning she'd be permanently rooted in Japan. Which she could handle, except their children would have intercontinental grandparents, and her mother had hinted at her marrying a Frenchman and ensuring she keep close to home.

The obstacles they would face as a couple kept compounding into larger and more complex problems—which she was willing to face head-on, if only she could label Seiji as something other than her "good-intentioned friend." They'd have to set the story straight with _themselves_ first, before tackling in-laws and working circles.

Her worries bounced back and forth like pachinko pinball, and she sighed, without realizing, scratching her forehead with the tips of her middle fingers. Seiji caught wind of her thinly veiled irritation and shot Nasuti a questioning look. Byakuen must have sensed it as well and wedged himself between his and her legs, growling for attention. He batted Seiji playfully to the side, nuzzling his head against Nasuti's waist and stared at her, adoringly, panting for her affections.

The group broke into fits of laughter, save for Seiji, who glared menacingly at Byakuen, his pupils firing daggers through the air in electrified disgust. Nasuti squatted low, brandishing Seiji a "don't be childish" look, and scratched the tiger's mane. She finished with a kiss, just at the tip of his feline nose.

"Careful Seiji," Shin teased. "Byakuen's liable to snatch Nasuti out from under you."

Seiji flashed another look of contempt, but jumped when he felt Byakuen's wet tongue slurp against the back of his wrist. He held his hand midriff, muttering an annoyed "gross" and mentally berating his earlier decision to leave his leather gloves behind in the car.

"Look!"

Jun ran past the group and off the road, the mud from the street leaving an every-which-way trail of blackened slosh. Jumping through the air, he pointed excitedly to an open field just a few yards inland from the curb. Byakuen forsake Nasuti's side to tag along, his paw prints decimating Jun's smaller ones as he plowed forward, feet first through the snow.

Her eyes followed the direction of the chase to an empty park—still, silent and undisturbed. Who knew when it was it last saw visitors; the only signs of life were an elated ten-year-old, an enormous Himalayan tiger, and four unarmored Samurai Troopers, slinging snowballs and shouting obscenities from opposite sides of the field.

"OH YEAAAHH!" Shuu raised his fists in victory. "TWO POINTS FOR KONGO!"

Shin shook his head, brushing the remains of a snowball from his ear. "Some justice," he muttered. "That shot was unexpected."

"War has no patience for the weak." Shuu brushed his hands with a grin. "This is a man's sport."

"I'm on your team, retard." His hands fell to his hips in protest. "You don't pummel members of your own team. It's bad sportsmanship."

Shuu snorted in retort. "What kind of team is this? It's like carrying dead weight! My grandmother throws harder than you!"

Shin snapped, tossing his scarf to the ground. "So bring her here. Then maybe she can teach you to _aim_ properly!"

Shuu growled, clamoring for another fistful of ammunition. "Aim _this_!"

And with that, the "team" dispersed, creating an every-man-for-himself, no holds barred free-for-all of swears and insults and shoving snowballs up the other man's shirt. It wasn't long before Touma and Ryo joined the fight, first in an effort to deflate the conflict, later as an excuse to rub each other's faces in the snow.

Nasuti stood at the sidelines, her boots digging into the ground as she arched tippytoe in a desperate attempt to locate Jun, who had thankfully absorbed himself in the monkey bars. He'd climbed to the very top, body dangling nine feet from the ground and his hands outstretched towards the earth. He waved and grinned to Byakuen, pacing back and forth beneath him.

"There are too few parks in Tokyo."

Nasuti heard Seiji's voice beside her, but didn't quite register the words. She gave him a half-smile and rubbed her arms, trudging on and ahead through the snow. Seiji followed, removing his coat and extending it to her in offering. But she waved it away, her attention fixated on a set of metal swings at the back end of the park.

The swings were still; a soft blanket of snow covered the seats, fresh from the early morning dusting. She swept the snow away, wiping it dry with the sleeve of her coat. With a hand on either chain, she lifted herself up and into the swing. A child's legs would have dangled over the seat, but Nasuti's feet set firmly in the frozen soil, her knees bouncing up and down in anticipation of the flight. She'd loved swings as a kid, but hadn't stepped foot inside a playground in more than ten years.

So engrossed she was in thought that she jumped at the feel of cold skin across her fingertips. She whirled her head around back to find Seiji hovering over her, a sly smile at his lips as his hands encircled hers—a playful twinkle in his eye. His caress was soft, suggestive; she did an about-face in hopes he hadn't seen the reddening of her cheeks.

His hands fell to her hips, and with what seemed the minimalist of efforts, pulled her body back, seat and all, before thrusting her forward ever-so-gently, her hair flowing to and fro from the force of the swing. Giggling, she straightened her legs to pick up speed, bringing them back beneath her at the oscillary, and signaling Seiji for another quick push.

She lost herself in the motions, inhaling the cool night air as she swished forward and then swished back. It was easy to forget your troubles nine, ten feet in the air, a handsome, armored Trooper ready and waiting to catch your fall. And somewhere, the sound of a wedding bell, an intimate gathering of family and friends, the exchanged looks of praise and acceptance, and a bride smiling in an elaborate gown, white and pristine as winter snow…

A sudden jerk yanked her back to reality. Seiji had grabbed hold of the chain to pull Nasuti to him, her shoulders against his chest and their faces close. She was suspended in air, her feet several inches from the ground, and his nose tickling the sides of her cheek. She smiled a little and recoiled, worried that he might somehow tap into her daydreams. It was so uncharacteristically shy, and Seiji, studying her movements, couldn't help but take advantage. He leaned in a little, eyes closed, the brim of his nose circling the lines of her face.

Her eyelashes fluttered as he drew close. "Seiji…?"

"Hmm…?" He breathed, tracing invisible kisses against her neck.

"…Does your mother like me?"

Seiji's eyes popped open, his lips stalled dangerously close to the curves of her jaw. He'd hoped to steal a clandestine second—a quick, but precious moment without the Youjakai, without the others' "butting in." It took every ounce of his willpower to tear away.

Nasuti repeated the question, her features stern.

"Does your mother like me? …Seiji?"

Seiji blinked, baffled. "…I'm not sure I understand."

Nasuti sighed, widening the gap between them. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes lost in memory and her voice soft. "Do you remember my meeting your family? A few months ago?"

Seiji thought a moment as he leveled the swing. "Yes, I remember. At the hospital."

"Right!" Nasuti brightened. "I visited you after the accident. I drove all the way from Odawara to see you. My plan was to stay at a hotel, but your father was very kind; he offered a guest room at the dojo…" Her words trailed off.

"Nasuti…?"

"Your mother was so quiet!" Her voice squealed with protest. "Was I improper? Was I distasteful? Was there some…tradition I overlooked? Did I say something to offend?" She pelted him with a series of desperate questions, the swing chains rattling from the force of her grip. "She must have said something…?"

Seiji raised an eye, crossing his arms. "Nasuti, where is this coming from?"

She folded her arms mockingly. "A woman's sensitive to these things."

Bewildered, he shook his head, letting his arms fall to his sides. "It's a very strange thing to ask out of nowhere."

"Is it?" she countered. "I think it's strange not to." She turned her head and sighed. "Family is important to you. If it's important to you, it's important to me." She paused, searching for the right words. "The least we can do is be honest. And if not with this, then what?"

Seiji looked to the ground, digging his leathered boots into the snow. Things had been going so well—until now. It wasn't that Seiji didn't love his family; it wasn't that he couldn't discuss "things." But he and Nasuti were rarely alone, and with the staunch traditionalism of his home life and the playful teasing of his friends, he used these rare get-togethers as an excuse to leave their relationship worries behind.

Why _now_ of all times did she bring _this_ up?

Lifting his gaze to meet hers, Seiji could tell from the determination in her eyes she wasn't walking away empty-handed. It was either spill now or she'd spill _him_ her estrogenical wrath—in ways only an ingenious and resourceful woman knew how.

"No Nasuti," he finally said, shaking his head. "You've been very courteous to my family, very respectful of our ways. My father was…impressed."

He stole a glance at Nasuti; her eyes were wide with worry…or surprise—he couldn't tell which.

"And yes, my mother did 'say something.' After you left, she spoke with me in private."

Nasuti felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

"She's concerned for me, you see. A mother only wants what is best for her son." He paused again, worried how what he would say might affect her. "She did say you were 'very sweet.'"

"But…?" Nasuti could tell he was softening the blow.

"But she couldn't help noticing…"

"Seiji…?" Was that the ground or her stomach doing flip-flops?

"…My mother said that, well…you 'don't look Japanese.'"

"…Oh." Nasuti hadn't been born until well after World War II. Though she wondered if the atomic bomb on Hiroshima felt anything like the atomic bomb that'd been dropped onto her hopes and dreams. But she had to ask. "…And you? What did you say?"

He shrugged. "I simply smiled and said, quite plainly, 'Neither do I.'"

There was complete silence the next several seconds. Seiji said nothing, and all of Nasuti's bodily functions seemingly "shut down." She was so still, he was fairly certain she'd entered a catatonic state. Uneasily, he drew his head in, whispering soft.

"…Nasuti?"

Her lips slowly curved into an upward smile, movement returning to her lifeless body.

"Seiji…"

She hadn't known at the time, but it was the absolute, most perfect thing he could have ever said. And there was something else too. She might never know _what_ he was thinking. He might never fret or worry or concern himself the way she would. But at the very least, he had her back. At the very least, he was willing to defend _them_. And best of all, he hadn't needed his armor to do it.

Throwing her arms around his neck, she felt, for the first time that night, a sense of relief.

---

Elsewhere, Jun swung his legs and smiled. The night air was crisp and cold, but he warmed at the sight of his "brother" and "sister's" embrace. And from the top of the monkey bars to the twinkling stars above—it was the closest to heaven he'd ever felt.


End file.
